


(Re)Programmed

by LilianaSnow



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Captivity, Childbirth, Crack Treated Seriously, Forced Pregnancy, Gen, Kidnapping, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Mutant Powers, Mutants, Mutation, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Science Experiments, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:22:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilianaSnow/pseuds/LilianaSnow
Summary: IDK I saw this and panicked https://goo.gl/images/jv377GLink to a Chinese translation in notes





	(Re)Programmed

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [(Re)Programmed （重新）编程](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807295) by [asadeseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asadeseki/pseuds/asadeseki)



One moment, Peter was eating Twinkies and drinking stolen booze, and the next he was dragged into the back of a black van.

Of course, he didn't just lay down and take it, once his brain decided to work. He kicked out and started to reach for the man's hands, but he already had a needle in his neck, filled with a strong enough tranquilizer to knock him fully unconscious. He woke up bound tightly to a bed, handcuffed and gagged. He wasn't wearing any pants, and his legs were open and raised above him. They were bound to the bedposts. He tried to buck his hips and kick away, but his hips were bound tightly to the bed as well.

"Be still." The voice was harsh and commanding, and Peter's thigh was met with a harsh slap from someone with sharp nails, and he yelped as it dug in. "We were told you'd be asleep longer. We're almost done."

"'Mo dn wf whan?" he asked, looking down at his trembling legs. A face with a surgical mask on appeared.

"With your treatment, of course."

Pete groaned as a needle slid into his ass, and he whimpered as he got injected with something. He winced when it was pulled away and a blanket was put over his legs. He strained against the restraints again, only to get slapped. He whimpered but stayed put.

* * *

He had no idea he had fallen asleep until he woke with his pants back on, and a white T-shirt. His shoes were nowhere to be seen.

He was still strapped down. He was physically uncomfortable and mentally panicked. He pushed at his binds and couldn't pull free. He started crying, kicking weakly as he struggled to escape.

"No, no, no," he sobbed, struggling as hard as he could. He looked around as much as he could. His arms were taped down, and his legs were zip-tied. In his left arm, there was an IV pumping a strange fluid into his body. He couldn't feel his arm. He writhed against the straps on his chest and waist. "No..."

"Calm down." The harsh voice that had spoken when he was being injected had returned. "You'll hurt yourself."

"No... Please, let me go. Please. I don't... I don't know what you want, I just want to go home..." He shifted and bucked against his binds. "Don't do this."

"Calm down, Peter."

"How- How do you know my name?"

"You're a mutant. We've analyzed your DNA."

"I didn't... I didn't ask," he mumbled. "Who the hell are you?"

"You possess a quality we need now. You'll be free to go after you're finished up here."

"No... Please... Just let me be... Let me go..."

"No, not yet." Suddenly the chair was moving and he was forced to sit up. The masked person had a tray of food, and he was being offered said food.

"No..."

"You need food, Peter. You can trust me on that, if nothing else."

Peter sobbed softly, but he could feel his stomach grumbling. "C-Can I feed myself?"

"No."

Peter let himself be fed, because he figured it would be easier to escape if he had eaten.

* * *

It didn't get any easier on him over the next two weeks. What little mobility he had was restricted within his seating. Every day, they made sure that he had his bag of chemicals pumping into him, and he felt sluggish and impossibly tired because of it. He was forced to eat regularly, and he only got cleaned up once a week. He was bored and scared.

However, a while after that first day, he threw up.

He vomited all over himself, and the person who had been taking care of him had cleaned him up and zip-tied his hands before taking him to a bathtub to wash him. He was too weak and tired to do anything to keep himself from being pushed under the water- he couldn't keep his head up without the masked person's help. Luckily, drowning was not on the agenda, and Peter was efficiently scrubbed and dragged back to a prison of zip-ties and straps. While he had been scrubbed and redressed, in paper clothes this time, his bed had either been cleaned or replaced.

"Please, no," he mumbled uselessly, unable to fight off the binds he was being placed in. "I'll be good, please, just... Don't strap me down. Tell me what you want with me. Please."

"We want what's going on with you right now."

"Please let me go. Or at least loosen this, please," he sobbed, shifting. "I can't stand it in here."

"Rest assured that I will release you once you're done. But you still have time to spend in here." The person hooked him back up to the IV and left a bedpan where Peter could aim if he had to throw up again. "Use this, it's not very comfortable to be covered in vomit, even if it is just for a minute."

"Why? Why me?" he asked weakly, broken.

"Because your mutation is relatively tamable, and you're less of a threat here than out there. We borrow one of your sisters, well... Not only do you destroy us, but so can your other sister. Wanda could escape easily, what with her reality-bending. Lorna would have to be subject to plastic tools, and that's unsafe for everyone. No, sedate you and wear you down, and they can't do a thing about it. I promise, once we're finished you can go."

"Why did it have to be one of us?"

"We needed a well enough fit for what we need to do. Your family is perfect for what needs done."

"All I want is to see my sisters."

"If we could have tamed them, trust me, we'd have borrowed them too. Best not to dwell on that, though." They left him alone after that, with Peter whimpering at the vagueness of what they'd said.

* * *

They fed him much less food than he normally ate, but it was still almost too much food. He threw up twice a day- for three weeks, by Peter's count- and still gained weight. It was when they brought in an ultrasound that it finally clicked.

"I'm not... I can't be... Pregnant?" he whimpered as they lifted his paper shirt. They didn't answer him, but they did lather the ultrasound gel onto his stomach. He sniffled when they put the little wand to his stomach and the image appeared.

There was a small clump just under his stomach, and it was attached to him. He whimpered at the revelation that he was, indeed, pregnant, but felt even sicker at the thought that his fate could have befallen his sisters. He cried, slumping against the bed.

"H-How?"

Peter's questioned was ignored. The masked doctor- who Peter had dubbed 'Fuckface' in his head- made notes and observations but then left him alone. He felt alone. He was isolated, with his only company being a masked, nameless person who dictated his every move. He was allowed to throw up, and permitted food, but he had no personal agency. Even the vomiting was involuntary. He couldn't shift to become more comfortable. He couldn't get up and walk. They had adjusted the chemicals pouring into him, but he still had a hard time moving or fighting.

"Please... Why are you doing this?"

Again he was ignored.

* * *

The ultrasound became a weekly affair. Every seven days, they came in and slathered up his stomach. They'd record information and clean off his stomach.

Peter managed to piece together a few things. The chemicals were slowing his brain and metabolism, so he wasn't able to vibrate out. Although he was apparently quicker than most of the other subjects, he was still slower on the uptake than he normally was and was often too sluggish to muster up enough strength to say more than his pleas for freedom.

He was their only speedster, and he was not their only birthmother. He was their only male and he had some of the heaviest supervision, if the fact that he could occasionally see other ladies walking around in hospital gowns out the window of his room.

He also found out, through a slip of a tongue, that his child would be a girl named X-23. He wasn't sure if she'd ever get an actual name, so he took to mumbling to her with random girls' names. It was better than being alone. 

At around four months, he felt her kick for the first time. He was filled immediately with emotion, and he started to sob. It was a week she was named Luna, and so he decided that should be her name.

"Sorry I can't soothe you," he whispered softly. "I'm zip-tied so I don't run off. Probably for the best, you couldn't survive my speeds. Not that it really matters. I'm sleeping, so it's not like I have motivation for taking off the tranqs. I bet you'll be beautiful, Luna. I hope you look like whoever it is that was your other parent."

She kicked up toward his sternum, and he sighed, leaning back.

* * *

At seven months, Peter started getting false contractions. He sobbed and cursed through them, writhing in agony as Fuckface watched on, unconcerned by his pain. Not that Peter expected any sort of sympathy. He only wanted to survive and take home his baby. He wanted to see his sisters. He wanted to run again. He wanted to be out of pain.

He groaned and leaned his head back, panting. His hair was plastered across his face, glued by the sweat of the struggle. Tears streamed and fell onto his shirt, and he was letting out undignified yelps and yips. He strained to push himself through it before finally the pain was over. Fuckface walked over to check his pulse and to see if Luna would respond to a stimulus in the form of them jabbing at Peter's hips and stomach. Peter yelped and struggled, but he sobbed with relief when he felt his baby kick out at them.

Exhausted, Peter almost was unable to use the bedpan when he threw up that night.

* * *

Finally, when Fuckface came in to see Peter he adjusted the drug bag. Peter tiredly watched him add different chemicals to the bag and open the valve to allow more into his body.

"What are you doing? Is something wrong with her?"

"No. She's perfect." Fuckface studied his face. "You, on the other hand..."

Peter whimpered a little, feeling himself slow down more. Everything around him was for once moving faster than him, before finally he passed out. While he was out, he caught tiny hints of pain in his stomach occasionally. There was some medical jargon being said, and he slipped under again. He almost woke up in bright lights to the sound of a baby screaming, but then he was put back under entirely.

* * *

He woke up in an ER, stomach stitched up and monitors everywhere. He was starving again, and when he looked down at himself he was thin again. He looked around, and when a nurse explained that he had been dumped here- _alone_ \- he started crying. He had been forced to carry to term, and he no longer could even call himself a mother.

He located his sisters again. He never told them about Luna. He was dead long before Logan met X-23, and her name was Laura.

Logan wondered, having heard Peter once mention in passing a child named something similar, but when he really looked at her, he realized.

_My genetic clone. His genetic baby._

_I need to protect her more now._


End file.
